


Summertime, the Living's Easy

by im2old4thisotp



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Banter, Car Sex, F/M, Shameless Smut, Stydia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 02:32:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10630323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/im2old4thisotp/pseuds/im2old4thisotp
Summary: It was the kind of hot that came along to Beacon Hills every 15 years or so. The kind of hot that your parents and your grandparents talk about every summer and inevitably compare your current misfortune against.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is for a Stydia-Fanfiction tumblr prompt: established!stydia fic where stiles inappropriately violates an ice cream cone to try and get lydia all “hot n bothered” in public (fluffy smut pls)
> 
> This is the first time I've ever written for a prompt by someone else. It was a good writing challenge for me--and as usual, when Stydia get together, stuff happens.
> 
> I do not apologize.
> 
> Leave me some love (aka comment or kudos--or both), will ya?

 

*****************************

It was sweltering.

It was the kind of hot that came along to Beacon Hills every 15 years or so. The kind of hot that your parents and your grandparents talk about every summer and inevitably compare your current misfortune against.

Stiles and Lydia were lying on the tile floor of their kitchen. It wasn’t their normal hangout spot. But since the AC unit in their apartment was on the fritz (again), they were making the best of a bad situation. They looked like they were making snow angels, their arms and legs spread wide across the floor, with their hands just touching.

Lydia’s voice bounced off the ceiling, “I think I’m making a puddle on the floor underneath me.”

Stiles laughed at the thought. “I’m melting!”

“I really am. I am not even doing anything.”

“Well, that’s just not true, Lydia.” Stiles retorted. “You’re lying there, looking beautiful as always.”

“Beautiful even though I’m sweating like a pig? Wow. Your standards are low.”

“What can I say? When it comes to you, I’ll take you any way I can get you. Even as a sweaty, gorgeous mess.”

Lydia smiled. She shifted her position on the floor, trying to find a new cold spot. “Stiles, tell me again. Did you wash this floor before I laid down on it?”

“Yes, Lydia. I washed the floor.”

The silence following his words was telling.

“Stiles... Did you wash this floor--”

“--I said yes!”

“-- _today_?” She turned her head to look at him and saw a guilty look flash across his eyes.

“Well, not exactly _today_ , but--”

“Alright, that’s it. I am not doing this anymore.” Lydia turned to her side and pushed herself up to a sitting position. She looked down at him accusingly. “While the tile floor is considerably cooler than the rest of our apartment, I will not be laying down on it and getting bouillabaisse from last night’s dinner all over my Topshop.”

Stiles’s eyes widened. “I am shocked that you think I would spill such a valuable sauce, milady.”

“And while I would love to continue this dialogue with you, I really think we should move it to the car. My _air-conditioned_ car.”

Stiles sat up, taking Lydia’s hand and pulling her up to stand with him. “What? Roscoe’s not good enough for you?” He winked at her, knowing her answer before she said it.

“Stiles. Do you really want me to answer that question?”

“Shh!” Stiles put his finger to her lips and held it there. “He’ll hear you. He’s very sensitive, you know.”

His finger trailed off her lips slowly, her bottom lip pulling down with the motion. His gaze traveled to where his finger was, his voice soft.

“Y’know, we could just go upstairs, get in the shower and let the cool water run over us.”

“Mmm…” Lydia smiled a half-smile at him, rising up closer to him as she lifts onto her tip-toes. She leans into him, her nose grazing against his, and he closes his eyes in anticipation of her kiss. He hears her whisper back, her breath fanning across his face.

“But then we couldn’t get ice cream.” She plants a quick kiss on the end of his nose and steps back, giggling at his comical expression: eyebrows raised in surprise, bottom lip pouted in disappointment. She grabs her purse and her keys, and heads out the front door.

“But--” Stiles yells after her, “--in the shower you’d be naked!”

He stumbled out of the house after her, pulling the door shut behind him. Lydia was already in the car, and from what he could see, she had her face pressed as close as it could get to the air-conditioning vents.

He got in the car, chuckling at her draped over the steering wheel, both driver’s side vents pointed at her face.

“Stiles, I swear. If the AC guy doesn’t show up tomorrow, we are going to have to move. I can’t handle this another day.”

“I don’t think it’s that bad.”

Lydia threw him an incredulous look. “Not that bad? Stiles, we have had to change the sheets every morning the last 3 days because we are sweating through them overnight.”

“I don’t think that’s just from the temperature of the room. I’m pretty sure you’re the one making me all hot and sweaty every night.” He leaned toward her to teasingly poke her in the side, but she leaned away from him.

“I don’t hear you complaining,” she teased.  “But no, I don’t want you touching me right now. It’s too hot. There’s no way you could turn me on in this heat, anyway.” She shifted gears and pulled out of their parking spot, headed to the center of town.

Stiles looked at her with an eyebrow raised. “Well, Ms. Martin. That sounds like a challenge to me.”

“Good luck with that.” She half-smiled at him, knowing that he loved a good challenge. She did, too. Somehow, Lydia knew that there wouldn’t be any losers in this one.

He smiled at her, his whiskey-colored eyes sparkling. “Oh, I’ll be getting lucky, alright. You won’t be able to resist.”

Lydia thought he was crazy. The thought of skin-on-skin contact right now just made her wrinkle her nose. She’d change her mind later, of course--it really wasn’t that bad at night with the windows open. And Stiles is right--she can’t look at him in her bed without wanting to hear those sexy sounds he makes in the back of his throat when she’s sucking on the skin under his ear.

Right now, all she wanted was ice cream. And air conditioning. And maybe an ice bath. Or a trip to the Arctic--she really did want to see a narwhal up close, now is as good a time as any.

“So...what will it be, Stilinski? Ice cream, or froyo?”

“Definitely ice cream.”

Lydia pulls into the parking lot at Baskin-Robbins, driving around a bit before finally finding a space to park. She hesitates before turning off the car, and she smiles as Stiles leans his face in front of the air conditioning vent.

“I’ll miss you while we’re gone,” he says affectionately, his hand petting the vent as he nuzzles close to it.

Lydia laughs at him. “You are such a nerd.”

He looks at her, “Yes, I am. And you _love_ me.”

Lydia softens her eyes at him. “Yes, I do. Okay, ready?” Lydia switches off the car, opens the driver’s side door, and is immediately assaulted with a wall of hot air. Both she and Stiles groan simultaneously.

They get out of the car and hurry into the building, sighing with relief when the air conditioning from the building washes over them. Their joy is short-lived when they realize that everyone in Beacon Hills had the exact same idea, and the line is 20-deep. However, It’s too hot to go anywhere else, plus inside the building is air-conditioned, and outside is...not, so they stay.

“Stiles! Lydia!” They both turn to see Scott, waving at them from the front of the line with Malia and Liam. “We’ll save you a seat!”

Stiles passes the time by trying to sneak touches on Lydia’s arm, and snaking his arm behind her to tap her on the shoulder, like he used to do to Scott in middle school. As Lydia cools off in the air conditioning, she responds more to Stiles’ subtle teasings, leaning into him, and teasing him in return. She slides her hand around his arm, just above his elbow, and starts to trace her fingertips up and down his forearm, loving how the goosebumps appear under the hair on his arm.

He slides his arm back around her, not teasing her this time, but inching his fingers around the waistband of her skirt. He slides his fingertips under the hem of her cropped shirt and rests them against the bare skin, making the slightest of circles against her exposed middle. Lydia’s breath hitches, and she looks up at him through her lashes.

He leans down to her ear, holding her close with his arm as his breath fans across her ear and down her neck, sending shivers up her spine. His voice is low, quiet.

“So, what’s my reward if I can get you turned on in this heat?”

As he stood upright again, Lydia struggled to keep her breathing calm, the sound of his voice low in her ear making her heart pound. She didn’t want to give away how easily she was turned on by him--she wanted to win this challenge, dammit.

She grabbed his shirt front, pulling him back down to her as she lifted up on her tiptoes to whisper into his ear.

“If I can resist your silly attempts at turning me on, I get breakfast in bed for a week. But if you can get me turned on--without touching me, Stiles--then you can eat your ice cream...off of my body.” As she said the last phrase, she made sure to press her chest into his arm as she leaned into him. She saw his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed hard.

“Oh, Lydia. You are so going down on this one.”

“That’s what you think, Stilinski.”

They ordered their ice cream--strawberry cheesecake in a cup for her, peanut butter and chocolate on a sugar cone for him--and looked for the group, hoping to find them inside, but no luck. With the place being so busy, the only place that had enough seating for 6 was outside.

Stiles grinned at Lydia. “Well, being outside has the hot part of hot and bothered taken care of.”

“Don’t count your chickens, Stiles. You couldn’t possibly get me turned on in this heat.”

Stiles opened the door ahead of Lydia and held it for her, speaking low to her as she passed, “I’m going to prove you _so_ wrong on this one. You’re going to be dragging me out of here.”

Lydia laughed at Stiles’ words as they walked to the table to where the rest of the pack was waiting for them.

“What’s so funny, Lydia?” Scott asked.

“Oh, nothing. Stiles just thinks he can win a bet against me, that’s all.” Lydia plopped herself down next to Scott, placing her ice cream on the table in front of her as she adjusted her skirt.

Scott looks incredulously at his best friend. “Stiles? You bet against Lydia on something? You know she never loses, right?”

Stiles sat next to Liam across the table from Lydia. “I’m not gonna lose this one.”

“Well, what are the terms? What are you betting on?” Liam asked.

Stiles smirks. “Well, Lydia thinks that I--”

“--Scott!” she interrupts, putting her hand on Scott’s shoulder to draw his attention away from Stiles. “Tell me about the renovations at the clinic this summer. What’s Deaton planning?”

To Lydia’s relief, the distraction works and Scott launches into the details of the expansion and renovation of the animal clinic, drawing Liam and Malia’s attention at the same time. They ask him questions and keep the conversation going. While they are talking, Lydia’s eyes wander back over to Stiles, who is looking directly at her with amusement. She holds his gaze as he winks once at her, then looks at the slowly melting ice cream cone in his hands. A slow smile erupts on his face.

A single drip of ice cream has landed on Stiles’ index finger. He notices and lifts the finger to his lips, slowly taking the tip into his mouth and sucking on it slowly. He closes his eyes and exhales the barest of whimpers as he pulls his finger out of his mouth, the quiet little pop noise sending a lightning rod of desire across the table and into Lydia’s stomach. He opens his eyes and looks up at her, his whiskey-colored eyes staring right into hers.

_Oh, shit_.

About 52 seconds into their bet, Lydia realizes that she is going to lose. She didn’t think about this. Stiles using his mouth and his tongue and his fingers on that ice cream cone the way he usually uses them on her, and she knows she has lost before she has even begun.

The only question that remains now is how long does she have to keep up the pretense of even trying to win?

_Fuck it_. She’s not going to win--but she can definitely leave here with her pride intact. She is absolutely, positively not going to drag him out of here. She’ll finish her ice cream calmly and patiently and then say goodbye to everyone and leave hand-in-hand with Stiles.

She tries to focus her attention back on what Scott is saying, interjecting his descriptions with _yeahs_ and _mm-hmms_ as they seem necessary--but she can’t keep from watching Stiles and the simply obscene things he is doing with his tongue to that ice cream.

Lydia recognizes the look he is giving the sugar cone. It’s the same look he gives her right after he fully embeds himself inside her. A mixture of sheer wonder and ecstasy at the same time. He slowly opens his mouth and slides his tongue between his lips, kitten-licking around the side of the cone, taking up the extra drips that threaten his fingers. He then lays his tongue flat against the side of the cone, taking a big lick upwards and curling his tongue back into his mouth. As his tongue slides back to the cone again, he begins to twirl it between his fingers, making swirl patterns, leaving imprints in the ice cream where his tongue lay.

He slowly looks up through his long lashes at her, his eyes melting her faster than the ice cream in the cup in her hands. She sits upright slowly, crossing her legs to try to distract herself from the heat building between them.

Stiles parts his lips slightly, and slowly dips two fingertips into the ice cream on the top of the cone, curling them slowly and then pulling them out, lifting them to his lips and sucking the ice cream off of them again.

Lydia’s eyes blink rapidly, and she quickly looks around the table to see if anyone else is noticing what is happening.

“Lydia, are you okay?”

Lydia’s eyes turn to Malia, who is looking at her with concern. She clears her throat before answering.

“Yes, why do you ask?”

“Well, your face is all flushed, and you haven’t eaten any of your ice cream.”

Lydia looked down at the cup in front of her, surprised to see that half of it has melted into ice cream soup while she had been staring at her boyfriend.

“Plus,” Malia continued, “you’re giving off this crazy smell right now.”

Scott and Liam both lifted their noses and sniffed at the same time. Lydia’s eyes widen as she looks at Stiles, who is giving Lydia a look of pure glee. He can’t help himself from chiming in.

“Yeah, Lydia. Maybe the heat is getting to you. Do we need to go?”

She wants to say no. She wants to sit up tall and shrug off the arousal and make Stiles lose this bet. But then she looks back at Stiles who chooses at that moment to wrap his lips fully around the scoop of ice cream that is left on his cone, and she realizes that if he doesn’t do that between her legs soon, she’ll regret it for the rest of her life.

She stands up quickly, her face reddening. “Yes, I think I need to go. I’m sorry, everyone. I think the heat is too much for me.”

She steps around the table to the other side, grabbing Stiles’ hand in hers and practically dragging him out of his seat.

“See ya guys!” Stiles shouts back at them, laughing to himself.

Stiles keeps up with her easily on the way back to the car. She can feel his smirk even without looking at him.

“Get in the car, Stiles.”

“But don’t you--”

“Stiles! Get. In. The. Car.”

They climb in, Stiles still holding on to the dripping cone. Lydia ignores him, shifting the car into drive before he can get fully situated in his seat. She pulls out of the parking lot and drives like a maniac for about five minutes, Stiles smugly licking around his ice cream cone the entire time. She finally pulls off of the road and back into a quiet corner of the nature preserve.

She throws the car into park and unfastens her seatbelt, leaning across him in the passenger seat, her breasts pressing against him as she reaches past him to the side of his seat. He moves to nuzzle against her, but she puts her hand on his forehead, holding him still.

“That thing you were doing, back there?” She indicates to his ice cream with her eyes briefly, before her hand finds the lever she was searching for, and pulling on it. Stiles’ seat suddenly lurches backwards, reclining him under her, and she shifts so her knees bracket his hips and she is sitting in his lap.

“Yeah?” Stiles’ voice is low again, and she can feel his arousal underneath her.

“That was completely unfair, Stiles.” She slowly pulls at the hem of her crop top, lifting it up and over her head, dropping it in the drivers seat and revealing a cream-colored lace bra. Stiles moans at the sight of it, holding the ice cream off to the side so it doesn’t drip on her.

“Unfair? I played by the rules, Lydia. I didn’t touch you at all.” He can’t resist using his free hand to trail up her side, fingering the sides and top of her bra, teasing at the skin underneath.

Lydia sighs and begins to pull at the hem of his shirt, lifting it up his chest and spreading her hands wide on his stomach.

“You’re right, Stiles. You played by the rules. But it is still unfair.” She began unfastening the buttons on his jeans, her fingers splaying under the waistband, making his breath hitch. “Because you ate nearly all of your ice cream out of that damn cone, and I wanted you to eat it off of me.” She pulls on his waistband, and he lifts his hips so she can slide his jeans and boxer briefs down past his knees.

Stiles exhaled, his breath uneven and shaky. He brings the cone back in front of him, placing it at the base of Lydia’s neck. She sharply inhales, and moves closer to him. He moves the cone in a small circle, sliding it slowly up to her shoulder, and trailing it down her chest, leaving a chocolate path on her skin. Then, he sits up and puts his mouth on her, nipping and sucking along the line he had created, taking up the cream and the stickiness that the cone had left behind.

“Mmm….chocolate and peanut butter-flavored Lydia. The perfect combination.” He followed the line down and around her bra, sliding the cup down and under her breast. He teased her with his fingers, bringing the cone back up and tipping it so the melted cream dripped onto her nipple, making her gasp as it hardened into a small bud. He took it into his mouth, swirling his tongue around and around it, and she arched against him, pressing herself further into his mouth. He sucked on her, cleaning up all of the cream, using his other hand on her lower back to bring her closer.

“Lean back, Lydia.” His voice was gravelly, sexy to her ears. She leaned back against the dash, and he helps adjust her legs so her feet are next to his hips, her knees in the air. Stiles eyes the wet strip of fabric between her legs.

“God, I am glad you love skirts so much. But how much do you love these?” His fingers trail up her thigh and slide under the lace around her legs, brushing against her folds.

“ _Off_ , Stiles. Get them off.” Lydia pants, loving the feeling of his cool fingers in her heat.

He pushes his fingers through the delicate lace, shredding them and revealing all of her. His fingers move to her heat, sliding up and down her folds, feeling the wetness and causing him to moan along with her. Stiles lifts the ice cream again and takes a small bite out of the point of the cone.

“This is going to be cold, but you’re gonna love it, Lydia.” The creamy liquid drips out of the end of the cone as he holds it above her and lets it drip onto her folds. Her stomach contracts as the shock surprises her. He lets the liquid cover her, and drops the rest of the cone in the cup holder.

“Hold on, Lydia.” He pulls her hips up to meet him, and presses his tongue flat against her, his nose nudging against her clit. The moan she elicits spurs him on, and he drags his tongue through her heat, gathering up the cream and her wetness all at once.

Lydia can’t see him, but she knows what he looks like, having been given a preview of his technique earlier in the evening. The cold has disappeared with the heat of his tongue and the pressure of his fingers against her thighs, and she is building and gaining above him. She grabs at his hair and threads her fingers through it as his tongue licks at her and presses against her clit and she struggles to hold herself up because of the pleasure he gives her.

“Stiles. Stiles, please. I’m...it’s _so_ good.”

His tongue circles her over and over, the ice cream long gone, but the love of this driving him onward. Soon she is crying out for more.

She can’t hold herself up anymore. She pushes his head back, and sits back down onto his legs. She slides up and sinks herself down onto him, and they moan together as he fully fills her.

“ _Fuck_ , Lydia. This won’t last long.”

“Good.” She pulls on his hair again, and their foreheads press together as she rides up and down on him, his hips thrusting up into her, his hands grasping her hips. He moves one hand between them, rubbing against her clit as she grinds down on him, and she is lost. She throws her head back and groans his name as she shudders around him. He tucks his face into her neck and gives a trembling breath as he comes inside her, guiding her down with his fingers as they ride their waves together.

They breathe together for a few moments before the cramp in her hip urges her to move. She pulls off of him and settles herself in his lap, happy for the reclining seat. He trailed his fingers up and down her spine, a deep sigh escaping his lips.

“So, who won the bet, Lydia?”

She chuckled. “ _We_ win, Stiles. We both definitely win.”

She sighed against him, laying down against his chest, the car air-conditioning blowing against their warm, bare skin. She was just drifting off against his chest when she heard his murmur.

“But I totally won.”


End file.
